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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255661">in (y)our bedroom after the war</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangehunger/pseuds/strangehunger'>strangehunger</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Obviously), Apologies., By using this title and not writing smut., Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Cuddling, Declarations Of Love, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I know that to some of you I have committed a grievous sin, Introspection, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Obligatory “Catra can’t sleep on her own” fic, Post Episode - S5E13 coda, Post-Canon, Ruminations on the meaning of home, Season 5 Spoilers, bed sharing, hand holding, mostly the comfort part, very light angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:02:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24255661</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangehunger/pseuds/strangehunger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Even illuminated only by the candles winking in their sconces, the castle is beautiful. It’s swathed in colors just as brilliant as the kingdom’s name indicates, steeped in a history that Catra has no part in. </p><p>Will she ever return to the Fright Zone? If she does, it will be different now. Catra is sure of that — She-Ra’s magic healed every broken thing in all of Etheria, carpeting the sullied land with new life. Whatever the Fright Zone had been, whatever had happened there, it is in the past. </p><p>An unexpected pain throbs in Catra’s chest. Whatever the Fright Zone had been, it had been home for a long time. For her and Adora. The pain she had weathered there had been cradled hand in hand with the happiness of their friendship. The loss is unexpectedly painful. </p><p>Her hand falls from the wall.</p><p><i>“I’m going to take you home,”</i> Adora had said, and Catra still doesn’t know where exactly that is.</p><p>_______________________</p><p>Catra adjusts to life at Bright Moon — and realizes she doesn’t have to do it alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1625</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in (y)our bedroom after the war</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wow! Where to start! </p><p>I watched She-Ra in its entirety over a period of two days. Irredeemable damage was done to my brain in the process, but it was worth it. And here I am now, with a fic offering. </p><p>This fic comes from a <a href="%E2%80%9C">tweet of mine</a> in which I joked about everyone naming their post-canon fic as, <i>in our bedroom after the war</i>...but then I was like, wait, I want to write that too. Hypocrisy is fabulous. </p><p>There is another tweet, too, which didn’t necessarily <i>inspire</i> this fic, but has consumed my every waking moment and definitely was on my mind while writing this fic. Catrastrophe posted a <a href="%E2%80%9C">tweet</a> that goes, <i>“catra and adora must have felt like they invented love all alone in secret together in the middle of the horde when they were children”</i> and I haven’t known peace since. Go enjoy crying over that! </p><p>Thank you to Sara, Steff, and Immi for giving me feedback on the first half of this. I held the rest of the fic hostage so that they would actually read it on AO3, so all of the blame for any errors falls to me. </p><p>I really hope you enjoy it! This was my first time writing for the fandom, and the content is a lot sweeter and lighter than what I am used to, it was a great joy to write. </p><p>I’m on tumblr as <a href="strangehunger.tumblr.com">strangehunger</a> and Twitter as <a href="twitter.com/magpiebrain">magpiebrain</a> if you want to scream with me. Neither are exclusively Catradora, but I’m on a kick at the moment. EDIT: Because I am being sucked in, you can now find me at an almost exclusively SPOP twitter with simultaneously the best and worst @, <a href="twitter.com/tsunderecatra">tsunderecatra</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m sorry,” Glimmer says, pushing at an ornate pair of doors <em> at least </em> three times her height. Her mouth twists into a line of clear unease. Catra’s muscles stiffen in anticipation, all the way from her suddenly taut shoulders to the anxious twitch in her tail. She has no idea what the next words out of Glimmer’s mouth will be — but “This used to be the prison,” would <em> not </em>have been her first guess. </p><p>The double doors glide inward, revealing a vaulted chamber that could have <em> easily </em> fit the communal sleeping quarters of the Fright Zone many, <em> many </em> times over. Catra’s eyes widen in surprise, taking it all in. Where the walls aren’t parted by immense, arched windows, they are paneled in some lacquered blue material, smooth and shining as everything else in Bright Moon. Even though the dying light of the day still floods the room, the pendulous lanterns dripping from the ceiling and from wall sconces are lit. It’s an unnecessary expense, one which the soldier in Catra might have instinctively recoiled from — if not for the fact that her astonishment is divided between the window of stained glass that dominates the far side of the room and the <em> literal river </em>that courses out of one of the windows. </p><p>“This,” says Catra, wondering if there is some kind of fundamental divide in <em> language </em> between Bright Moon and the Fright Zone, “was a <em> prison</em>?”</p><p>“Not anymore,” says Glimmer hastily, mistaking Catra’s shock for anger. “Look! We’ve added cushions.”</p><p><em> Cushions </em> . Glimmer pats at an overstuffed pillow for show, its fabric just as rich and beautiful as everything else in the room. “Look, you’ve got your vanity, bathroom, crystals—” she rattles off a litany of other terms that Catra has heard in theory but never actually thought she would <em> see. </em> Glimmer poofs in and out of thin air around her, pointing to each new revelation as if it <em> isn’t </em> the wildest thing Catra has ever seen. The bed is enormous <em> . </em> The crystals are <em> decorative.  </em></p><p>Melog wanders across the room. He dips his head into the small pool that seems to be <em> flowing out of the open window </em>, and the water ripples with the disruption. It sends the candles — candles! — that dapple its surface bobbing on gentle waves. </p><p>“— And Melog found the waterfall — here,” says Glimmer. She waves her hand and the bowls suspended in the air above the pool swell with water, rippling down into the surface. “Sorry, that was shut off earlier because — you know… prison.” </p><p>“...Uh-huh,” says Catra. She points to the waterfall. “And this is for… showering?”</p><p>Glimmer laughs at that, her brown face flooding with friendly mirth. “‘Waterfall for showering,’” she repeats, voice rising on another laugh. “You sound like Adora.”</p><p>The name alone is enough to send warmth through Catra’s body. It creeps up her neck and cheeks, and she doesn’t realize that she’s <em> smiling </em>until she sees the soft expression mirrored on Glimmer’s face. </p><p>“I can go get her,” Glimmer says helpfully. “I know my aunt dragged her off, but—”</p><p>“No,” Catra interrupts. She still isn’t quite sure what an <em> aunt </em>is, but the title seems important. Castaspella and King Micah had whisked Adora away the second they arrived in Bright Moon. Catra had a sneaking suspicion Glimmer was supposed to be with them, but the queen had mercifully decided a tour of the Castle took precedence over whatever the others were doing. Adora’s face, contorted in apology as she got pulled away, had been funny at the time, but now… “It’s fine. I’m fine, I just…”</p><p>Not knowing what to do, she sits down on the bed — <em> bed </em> being a loose approximation, as the explosion of pillows and blankets and sheets and curtains look more like one of Glimmer’s decorative <em> cushions </em>on steroids. Sitting on it is like being sucked down into quicksand. </p><p>“It’s okay.” Glimmer comes to sit beside Catra. She rests a hand on Catra’s shoulder comfortingly, clearly oblivious to Catra’s plight with the bed, and says, “I get it. It’s…different here. Change is hard, even good change. Especially after everything with the two of you…” </p><p>If Catra felt warm before, she is <em> on fire </em>now. She drops her face into her hands, and Glimmer laughs. Her hand tightens comfortingly around Catra’s shoulder, and then falls. She makes the act of getting out of the quicksand bed look ridiculously easy when she rises. In a shower of sparkles, she appears at the door. “I’ll let Adora know you’re here. And if you need anything—” she inclines her head, her face set in a warm smile that Catra desperately hopes she deserves “— we’re all just down the hall.” </p><p>Catra nods. “Thanks, Sparkles.” </p><p>Not even the old nickname makes Glimmer’s smile falter. “No problem,” she says. “Catra.”</p>
<hr/><p> Against all of her intentions, Catra falls asleep. </p><p>When she wakes, she is covered in sweat (a toss up between the nightmare and the cloying amount of blankets on the bed) and shaking (definitely the nightmare). Night has crept in; the room is dark except for the patterns thrown across the room by the lanterns. Catra is so disoriented that for a moment she is back in her lonely room in the Fright Zone. Not the one she shared with Adora and the other cadets, but the cell of a room that she had to herself after ascending to the ranks of Force Captain. </p><p>She struggles out of the bed, sending a volley of pillows onto the gleaming floor. Her heart pounds as she comes back to herself. The dream fades away, taking everything back with it, but Catra can still see it all. Shadow Weaver, The Heart of Etherea, Adora — Adora, Adora, Adora, her pale face illuminated by the light of the Failsafe, and the Heart buzzing overhead. The fear of losing Adora had been worse than her fear of the Heart of Etherea, the thought of the few lonely moments before the Heart ripped Catra apart with the rest of Etherea utterly unbearable. </p><p>A shiver runs down her spine. She casts a look around the room. Her earlier awe at the sheer luxury of the room has vanished, replaced by a sense of emptiness that leaves Catra feeling smaller and lonelier than ever. Each shadow seems to be a ghost from her past. She is reminded oddly of Shadow Weaver, and mixed emotions about her former guardian war within her chest. </p><p><em> Breathe, </em> she reminds herself. It’s more for Melog’s sake than her own — the cat has begun to pace the room in circles of agitation, the colors of its coat shifting from cool blue to furious red. She manages to awkwardly calm the cat down, but it does little for the furious pounding in her own chest. </p><p>A glimpse at the sky through the towering windows tells her that hours have passed, the moons of Etheria high in the sky overhead. She considers throwing herself back into the bed and going to sleep, but doubts that she would be able to get out of it again. Besides, the yawning darkness of the open room has her on edge. No longer standing at the brink of utter exhaustion, she can’t imagine sleeping here.</p><p>Something else gnaws at her — something in her chest, something insecure and needy, something that she has been trying to starve before it devours her — and she realizes that Adora was supposed to come find her. </p><p>“Stay here,” she mutters to Melog. </p>
<hr/><p>Bright Moon is beautiful. It’s big. It’s <em> confusing.  </em></p><p>Catra thinks she has been down the same hall three times. She’s <em> certain </em> she made a turn, back there — yet it all seems to be the same, concentric ripples of architecture designed with the single, pure intention of pissing her off. The doors, set into the walls like gems in a tiara, are all <em> exactly </em>the same. Not even a guard in sight to beg directions from. At this point, Catra doesn’t even think she will be able to find her own room. If she plans on sleeping at all, she’ll either have to curl up in one of the many, many hallways, or open a door and hope for the best. </p><p>Still, it’s beautiful. </p><p>Even illuminated only by the candles winking in their sconces, the castle is beautiful. It’s swathed in colors just as brilliant as the kingdom’s name indicates, steeped in a history that Catra has no part in. </p><p>She runs the tips of her fingers against the walls carefully, claws retracted. She remembers dragging her claws over the iron walls of the Fright Zone and delighting in the shriek of shredding metal. She had felt the vibration all the way down to the bone, but it had been worth it. To tear at the place that had torn at her, even for a moment. </p><p>Will she ever return to the Fright Zone? If she does, it will be different now. Catra is sure of that — She-Ra’s magic healed every broken thing in all of Etheria, carpeting the sullied land with new life. Whatever the Fright Zone had been, whatever had happened there, it is in the past. </p><p>An unexpected pain throbs in Catra’s chest. Whatever the Fright Zone had been, it had been <em> home </em> for a long time. For her <em> and </em>Adora. The pain she had weathered there had been cradled hand in hand with the happiness of their friendship. The loss is unexpectedly painful. </p><p>Her hand falls from the wall.<em> “I’m going to take you home,” </em>Adora had said, and Catra still doesn’t know where exactly that is.</p><p>“Catra?”</p><p>The scream Catra lets out is nowhere near dignified. Her ears and tail both go ramrod straight, newfound anxiety coursing through her body. Her claws are out in a second, and she whirls around to see — </p><p>Adora. </p><p>Laughing at her. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Adora says between giggles. The sound of her laugh is almost worth the fact that Catra is on the verge of a heart attack. “I’m sorry, it’s just — you should have seen your face!” She settles back against the arched doorway she stands in, not-so-subtly wiping at a tear of mirth. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” </p><p>“You didn’t <em> scare </em>me,” says Catra, arms folded over her chest. She tries to school her expression into an appropriately annoyed one. Adora, with her soft smile and loose hair, doesn’t make it easy. </p><p>“Can’t sleep?”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>The tell-tale racket of booted footsteps and clanking armor sounds down the hallway. Catra rolls her eyes. She could have used that kind of enthusiasm for the job when she was wasting away in the wilds of the castle’s halls a couple of minutes ago. </p><p>“You must have alerted the guards,” says Adora. She reaches out and catches Catra’s wrist in her hand. The smile on her face is all Adora — not the dignified warrior princess that she has become, but the sweet, sometimes mischevious girl that Catra has known since childhood. “Come on,” she says, and tugs Catra through the open door. </p><p>She yanks the door closed behind them, and the two collapse against it. They sit with bated breath as the sounds of the guard’s traipsing through the hallways fades into the distance. One of them is giving another an earful about falling asleep on the job. Catra’s eyes meet Adora’s, and they watch one another until the noise drops into the faintest fall of footsteps. </p><p>Adora breaks first. She gives a small snort of a giggle, and then it’s over for Catra; she bursts into the kind of laughter that she associates with Adora and their childhood. Adora cackles at her side, and the occasional snort just sets the two of them off again. They slide down the length of the door, collapsing into a laughing puddle at the bottom. Catra can’t remember the last time she has laughed like this  — probably not since before Adora left. It feels good. It hurts. </p><p>When she is finally able to see through the tears of laughter blurring her vision, Catra gives the chamber around her a quick glance. It has been formed in the same domed architecture that hers was, laden with crystals and candles that Catra is certain Adora hadn’t chosen for herself. An equally useless waterfall occupies an open air alcove. Someone has given her a bed, though — an <em> actual </em>bed, rather than the upholstered marshmallow dominating Catra’s room. </p><p>And the entire place is <em> pink.  </em></p><p>“It’s crazy, huh?”</p><p>Catra looks at Adora and is rewarded with a supportive smile and a knock of Adora’s shoulder against her own. Adora’s gaze lifts upward, blue eyes trained on a series of bowls and knickknacks suspended in the air above them. Her hair floats around her shoulders, loose and blonde. Not golden and glowing like She-ra’s, but still beautiful. In some ways, more beautiful. She drops her head to Catra’s shoulder, and the smooth mass of it pools against Catra’s skin. </p><p> “It’s so… <em> different. </em> From the Fright Zone, from the Horde’s Headquarters. I had never imagined there would be a place like Bright Moon in the whole world.” Her hand slips from Catra’s wrist down to her hand, gently twining them together. “And then nobody here liked me, not at first. I missed the Fright Zone. I missed you.” </p><p>Catra’s gaze slips to their hands, wound together like when they were children. She lets her head drop to rest against the crown of Adora’s. “I missed you too.” </p><p>Adora gently squeezes Catra’s hand in her own. There’s so much the two of them could talk about — so much has changed, and yet so much has stayed the same. In the span of a few days they have managed to bridge a gulf that they — that <em> Catra </em> — had created, fixing something that she had once thought would remain forever splintered. </p><p>But all Adora says is, “You’re here now. We’re together now.” </p><p>Catra squeezes Adora’s hand back, and knows that from here on out, she’ll never let go. </p><p>They sit like that for a while, mingled together with their backs against the door until Catra’s spine goes stiff. They watch the waterfall pouring from the edge of Adora’s room. The sound is calming, almost enough to lull Catra back to sleep. The warm body at her side is even more comforting. She finds herself nodding off, head lolling forward — only to be dragged from the distant shores of sleep by Adora shaking beside her, shoulders rising and falling with silent laughter. </p><p>“Sorry. Sorry! You just…” she shifts to look at Catra and says, “Were you… purring?” </p><p>If the blush on her face isn’t a giveaway for her embarrassment, then the way her ears shoot up at that certainly is. Adora just laughs at her side, and Catra considers plunging herself into the waterfall to calm down. She shoots upright, but does not disentangle their hands. “I — I’m just tired. <em> You </em>try sleeping on that bed.” </p><p>“Looked like you were doing just fine to me. I have to give you credit,” Adora says, gaze darting to the small bed dwelling under an enormous canopy at the center of the room. “I don’t know how you did it. I destroyed mine. Feathers <em> everywhere.</em>”</p><p>Catra decides to get to that second part later — and to hopefully try to stave off the same fate by convincing someone to get her a legitimate bed. Instead, her mind zeroes in on… </p><p>“What do you mean, <em> looked like</em>?” </p><p>The tables turn. A blush dusts over Adora’s fair cheeks. She runs a hand over the back of her head, and says, “Oh, Glimmer showed me your room earlier. I stopped by, but you were asleep…” her voice trails off. “I didn’t want to wake you. After everything you’ve been through the last few days, you deserve to rest,” she finished, as if <em> Catra </em>were the one who had internalized a magical Failsafe and nearly killed herself using it to save the world. </p><p>“<em>You </em> need to rest,” Catra counters back, voice hoarse. That piece inside her — the needy, insecure piece —  has grown quiet with the knowledge that Adora came looking for her. That she <em> hadn’t </em>just left Catra to that big, dark room on her own. </p><p>“Okay,” says Adora agreeably, and pops to her feet. She drops Catra’s grip in the process, and Catra mourns the loss of her warmth for about two seconds before Adora extends both of her hands. Catra accepts before she even knows what she is doing, and finds herself pulled to her feet. </p><p>“I can—”</p><p>“Do you want to go?” Asks Adora, the skin between her brow creasing in concern. “Back to your own room?”</p><p>Catra doesn’t know what to say. The nightmares from her nap come flooding back to her, memories of sinking into a warm pool and coming out someone else, memories of all of the things she has done to herself and to others since Adora first left, memories of Shadow Weaver in her final moments… She doesn’t want to wake up and find she has given Adora a black eye with her flailing, but she <em> can’t </em>do that alone again.</p><p>Adora’s hands tighten around hers. Her thumbs draw soothing circles around the backs of Catra’s hands. “Yeah,” she says softly. “That room, that’s where Shadow Weaver…” She doesn’t finish the thought, doubtless lost in her own memories. </p><p>She squeezes Catra’s hands one more time, and guides her back to the bed. She sits Catra on the bed, and finally eases her hands out of Catra’s to go rummage around in a drawer somewhere. </p><p>The bed is a completely <em> reasonable </em> size, reminiscent of the ones that the two of them had grown up sleeping in. They had always started in separate beds at the beginning of the night, with Catra migrating to Adora’s as soon as it was clear that the rest of the cadets were asleep and the quartermaster had given up on watching them for the night. They would stay up late talking about <em> whatever, </em>building an entire universe between the two of them in quiet voices and hushed giggles. Hemmed in by the ridiculously pink canopy, it even reminds Catra of laying on the bottom bunks and staring up at the slats in the bedframe above. </p><p>Catra runs her fingers over the bedding. Well. The quality is much nicer, which she won’t complain about. </p><p>“I couldn’t sleep alone either, when I got here,” Adora says. She tosses something over her shoulder, and Catra is immediately hit in the face with a once folded pajama shirt. Bottoms are soon to follow, and Catra scrambles to shell her outfit for the day off and yank the pajamas on in their place, even if they’re a little big on her. “Bow and Glimmer used to bring their blankets in here. They would sleep on the floor, like a big sleepover.” </p><p>Adora joins Catra on the bed, a smile on her face. “But it wasn’t the same.” </p><p>Catra doesn’t say anything about her quarters as Force Captain — a tiny, empty room, one where Catra was left alone with her thoughts. If she was lucky, she might have heard Scorpia snoring from the other side of the wall, but she had been otherwise cut off even from the rest of the Horde. She had spent many nights tossing and turning, and then getting up to pace the room or modify battle plans when she had exhausted the pretense of trying to sleep. It was so much <em> colder </em>sleeping on her own. </p><p>Adora flops backward. “But you’re here now,” she repeats. </p><p>“Yeah,” says Catra, to Adora and to herself. “I’m here now.” </p><p>Adora slips under the covers, and Catra eases up off the blankets. She’s ready to take her usual spot, curled up at the foot of Adora’s bed, when Adora holds up the edge of a spectacularly fluffy blanket. She slides in beside her, thinking about how they haven’t done this since they were <em> really </em>little — when they could share a pillow without knocking heads together, or without someone taking an elbow to the face by the morning. </p><p>The blanket drops on the two of them, trapping warmth and conversation underneath it. The bed really <em> is </em> small, just as small as their beds in the Horde's Headquarters but far more comfortable. Catra finds herself curling in, her knees knocking with Adora's in a way that is at one familiar and foreign. The entire bed <em> smells </em>like Adora, her sun-touched hair and her soft skin. Catra wants to burrow deeper into it. </p><p>She doesn’t know what she expected — that it would be the two of them whispering again like they were little, that laughter filled place under the covers their only solace from their harsh days of training. She had thought that lost, when Adora left. She had thought it lost these last few days, first in her lonely room on the spaceship with only the Horde’s hivemind bugging in the back of her skull for company, and later laying in her bedroll in the Rebellion’s hideout. Adora had been close enough to touch, yet seemed so far away. </p><p>Now, Adora slips an arm around Catra’s side, pulling her closer. Her arm is a warm weight against Catra’s torso, a comforting anchor tethering her to this moment. Catra hesitates at first — and then she returns the gesture, shifting to drape one arm over Adora and pull her close. Adora’s light chuckle is loud against her ear. </p><p>Later, there will be time to talk. They will tell each other stories starting with, “<em>Remember when…” </em> and giggle so loudly that they have to hold their breath when the guards come ambling past their room. They will laugh even louder after that. Memories will circulate in the sliver of space between the two of them. Good ones, mostly, but some nights Adora’s hand will brush at the remains of the chip embedded in the back of Catra’s neck, or Catra will have to shake Adora awake from a fit of restless, frightened sleep. They will whisper to each other on those nights, too, soft words of affirmation. Reminders that no matter what happens, nothing bad can happen — <em> as long as we stick together.  </em></p><p>Catra watches Adora as she falls asleep, tilting her head so that she can see each yellow lash splayed against Adora’s cheek. The room is filled with the soothing crash of the waterfall and the sound of their soft breathing. Catra can feel the rise and fall of Adora’s breath in her own chest. </p><p>Once Catra is sure Adora’s asleep, she says, so soft that it's almost lost under the quiet din of the waterfall, “Hey, Adora?”</p><p>“Mmm?” Is Adora’s only response, accompanied by a soft shifting under the blanket. </p><p>“I love you,” Catra says. </p><p>Adora peaks one blue eye open. Her arm tightens around Catra, bringing her closer, and she leans forward to brush a light kiss against Catra’s forehead. </p><p>“I love you, too.” </p><p>Catra buries her face into the dip of Adora’s shoulder, and feels the soft rumble of Adora’s quiet laugh against her chest. They fall asleep tangled together like that, in a vast, foreign castle, and Catra knows that Adora has fulfilled her promise. </p><p>She is home. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed it! I had a ton of fun writing it! I’m hoping to write more for this fandom. </p><p>Comments and kudos really do mean the world! Apologies for any continuity issues or anything like that — again, I watched the entire show in two days, so. Brain is mush at the moment. </p><p>Again, I’m on tumblr as <a href="strangehunger.tumblr.com">strangehunger</a> and Twitter as <a href="twitter.com/magpiebrain">magpiebrain</a> if you want to scream with me. Neither are exclusively Catradora, but I’m on a kick at the moment. EDIT: Because I am being sucked in, you can now find me at an almost exclusively SPOP twitter with simultaneously the best and worst @, <a href="twitter.com/tsunderecatra">tsunderecatra</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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